A First Time For Everything
by goldenone
Summary: Mark goes to Angel with an odd question. It was fun writing it, I hope you have fun reading it. :


_AN- (giddy laughter) just go with it :)_

Angel was just finishing up the new pair of earrings for Mimi. She'd seen the beads at a little store and just _had_ to make then into something for her favorite girl. Something bright and flashy. Something _shiiiiiiny_. Just when she was putting the hooks on them and laying them in the cute little red box she'd found in the trash (honestly, why would someone throw out something with so many sequins on it?), someone knocked on her door. Getting up excitedly (no one had visited her yet today), she skittered to the door and threw it open with a big smile. Mark (so cute, but _so_ quiet. If he'd just stop hiding behind those glasses and maybe gel his hair?) was standing there, looking awkward as always, with an answering grin at her enthusiastic greeting.

"Mark! Come on in. This is so great, you _have_ to see the earring I just made for my chica!"

He glanced at them quickly and then shoved his hands into his pockets, jutting his shoulders up in the air. "They're very nice, Angel, very nice. I… I like the box. It's very… sparkly."

Noticing his more-than-usual awkwardness and the way he wouldn't look up from the floor, she cocked her head to the side and crossed her legs. The spangles and flowers on her tights flashed in the sunlight. "What's wrong, honey? You look like you have something on your mind? Tell Angel what's going on." She patted the seat next to her and he sat on the edge of the vintage turquoise vinyl kitchen chair.

"Well, uh, it's like this… you see, I had a question and, um, well… I didn't know who to ask. I kind of wanted to try something aaaaand…" he trailed off and glanced at her, his eyes holding a painfully embarrassed look in their light blue haze.

"Well, what is it?"

"It… it's nothing. It's too embarrassing. Never mind."

"Oh, honey, if you can't say it out loud you can write it!" She stood up and went to the fridge, grabbing the smiley face notepad off it and picking up her favorite pen. The pink gel one with feathers on it that Collins had got her. "Here, cariño, just write it out."

Gripping the pen a little too tight, he bent over the pad, intently scribing out his question. A feather got caught on his nose. He sneezed until he almost fell off the chair. Angel grabbed him some water and sat next to him, rubbing his back until he was better.

"You ok, now?"

"Yes, thank you. I, um, I like your glass."

"Thank you! I found it at a flea market. It was just too neat, I had to get it." The cup, with a scrawny cat clinging to a clothesline and the words "hang in there, baby!" underneath it, was empty, and she busied herself with cleaning it while Mark finished writing.

She sat back down and he passed the pad back over to her. She read it, read it again, then looked up at him with an adorably excited look on her face. "Oh, honey! You came to _me_ about this? I feel so special!"

"Yes, well… I felt like I'd be most comfortable asking you. You seem very… open about most things. I know I'm not the type to normally do that, but… well, I've seen Collins doing it, and Mimi, too. I've caught Roger at it once or twice, as well. Maureen didn't want anything to do with… well, _it_, when she was dating me, but she says she's done it a couple times since. I just… well, everyone says it's so great. I wanted to try it."

"Well don't you worry, honey. Angel will take good care of you! Come with me!"

She led him over to her room. It was filled with half-made clothing, fabric, boxes for sorting scraps, and ceramic kittens. She grabbed a box and led him to the bathroom. He sat down on the edge of tub, and she plopped onto the toilet seat. Setting the box on the sink, she took a deep breath to calm down, and turned to him, hands clasped in her lap and a smile on her face.

"Ok, the first thing you need is one of these." She handed him a package and had him unwrap it, then take out what was inside.  
"Now you need to make sure what's inside is all on the one end. It can get kinda messy if you don't watch out." She watched him mimic as she demonstrated on her own, and continued the instructions.

"Good! Now you put it in your mouth. No, honey, the _other_ end. Oh, you dropped it! Careful, that can ruin the whole thing if you mess up. It's ok, use mine.

"Ok. Now you start it up. Like this… ok, good job." She sighed a little in frustration. This boy was a little thick. "Honey, you have to keep it in your mouth."

"I'm sorry! I'm just… I've never done this before. It feels weird."

"It always does the first couple times, but take it from me, honey. I've been doing this a long time, and it gets soooo much easier."

He nodded and did as she said, putting it back into his mouth.

"Good. Now, have to suck on the end to do it right. Good. Very good. Hey, you're getting it!"

The look on Mark's face went from surprisingly pleased to horrified in a split second. He turned around and vomited into the bathtub.

Angel jumped up and ran for a towel in the kitchen. Almost tripping over the linoleum (Damn heels. They look so good, but they're just not useful when you need to run! Now she understood why the girls always fell in horror movies.), she heard a knock on the door as she ran back towards the bathroom. "Come in! I can't answer right now!"

Roger's head appeared as he looked around the door and saw Angel bending over a rather paler-than-usual Mark. "What's going on in here? Is he ok?" Noticing the puke, he backed up. "Ew, man! What were you doing?"

Chuckling as she handed Mark a damp washcloth to help clean up the tub, she turned to Roger as she patted her poor friend on the head.

"Mark just had his first cigarette."

He burst out laughing. Mark glared at him from the floor. "You tell _no one_ about this, you hear me?"

Shaking his head as he backed hurriedly out the door and towards the kitchen again, he yelled back, "Uh uh, man. This is payback for my birthday party. You made me wear a pointy hat. I'm getting the camera!"

Mark's feeble attempts at yelling back were interrupted by another onset of heaving (he'd always had a weak stomach. He couldn't even handle lox as a child), he just let it happen and prayed to Yahweh it was over before Roger got back to record his shame.

AN- Didja like it? Didjadidjadidjadidja? I had a lot of fun writing Angel. Tell me, please. I'll give you a cookie!


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